This has very little to do with the lap band

My life is in a state of flux. The company I have been with for over 10 years is being absorbed by another company. My job and it's soundness is up in the air. I have been waiting for WEEKS to find out what's going on and the not knowing is killing me. I am, yes I know it may be shocking, a SERIOUS worrier.

I have what seems to be a promising interview with another place at the end of the week, but I am hoping I can handle to commute. All the unknowns are SO bothersome to me.

Beyond all this, I started some new antidepressant meds to add to my antidepressant meds and I was feeling much better for a few weeks. But yesterday and today I feel like I am sliding backwards. I think maybe 4 pills a day is too much and I should cut it back to three and stay there a while- see if it helps. Today life was so overwhelming that I went to work, did all I could (which isn't much because we are in such a state of flux), drank a 16 oz white breve mocha, which has like 17,000 calories in it... and I managed to get down an apple fritter with a little help from my mocha. So all-in all, I blew most of my calories before lunchtime. I took some more anxiety meds and tried to relax. Not so much. I just wanted to cry. Or sleep. Or cry myself to sleep.

So I opted to leave work an hour early and come home- and right now I am in the process of getting pretty hammered on blueberry vodka and low-cal lemondrop mixer. I want to numb out in the worst way. If the vodka doesn't work, I'll go for some pain killers. If I wasn't such a chicken and was a lot more stupid I would go for a LOT of pain killers chased with a LOT of vodka and just be done with it all.

This is not a happy place to be coming from. Cory wants to marry me. I want to marry him. We will have a furkid in a few months. There is lots to live for. I have a partner who loves me so much and takes such good care of me- but still lets me be who I am and still respects my independence. But my sadness and uncertainty doesn't really want to hear about that shit. It feels crappy NOW. It wants relief NOW.

Backing up a few steps and looking at the real situation here: I got about 4 hours of sleep last night. I am really really stressed about my work and my future. I am still trying to get my meds right. I have people who love me and care about me. I am a talented artist who just needs to find her niche. I am sitting in my backyard in the (intermittent) sunshine with my feet up and a cocktail in my hand. It is peaceful and lovely here. I have so many things to be grateful for.

Am I telling myself horror stories based in no fact? Yes. Am I worrying myself threadbare about things in life that I have NO control over? YES.

Maybe this is what they mean in those 12 step programs about surrendering to a higher power. I need to release the need to control (which I don't really have anyway) and hand it over to the universe. Trust that it will send me what I need when I need it. That is really hard to do. There are so many things in my life that I had to stand up and fight like hell to make happen- I didn't just sit and wait for it to come to me- and now I have a hard time releasing that M.O. I feel if I don't stand up right away, take action right away, that I will miss some grand opportunity... that I will be forgotten by the universe- that I will be passed over in the divine sense and left to fend for myself.

Okay- BLAMMO- that vodka is hitting me. I am gonna need to wrap this up soon. Otherwise I'll start going on about something inappropriate or secret that is best left buried.

On the upside- since the last post, I have lost 5 pounds- so there is that.

A vodka-soaked good evening to you all,
J
xo

Hard to Love Myself

I bought a really cute sundress today. And it doesn't fit. Not even close. I have been greasing my imagination wheels just enough to convince myself that I haven't gained THAT much, but then something like this reality hits me SMACK in the face and I am forced to keep my eyes open and look at the facts.

This is hard for me to share.

I was at 190 lbs. in November of 2009 before I had abdominoplasty. Then I had surgery and it took a LONG time to recover. I never got back to that level of athleticism that I was at. And I changed my lifestyle completely from what it was when I moved in with my Sig other. Since then, my weight loss journey and goals have taken a back seat to my life's drama, my depression, my frustration, and I fell swiftly back into medicating with food. My athletic endeavors shrunk to almost none. The reality today is that I am at 228 lbs. That's a gain of 38 lbs over the course of a year and 6 months.

How did this happen? I feel like I have failed myself. I feel like suddenly I am ill-equipped to get myself going in the right direction. Drowning in my depression and fat. No control. No life-raft.

But I stay afloat-(insert fat buoyancy joke here) and keep paddling. Hoping that the switch will flip back on and I'll return to the place I was- where losing was a priority and medicating with food was not an option, and where my depression didn't rule me so very much.

I know I have the strength to battle this out. But sometimes, you just get tired of fighting. I want to put my plate and fork down and rest in the green grass peacefully.

More to come. All I can do is keep trying.
xo
j

Powerless

In what area of my life do I feel stuck?
Where do I begin?

Work- unsatisfied, unsure of stability, feeling of hopelessness and apathy towards it. Knowing that in the end, this work means nothing and that no matter what I do today, it will not change the decisions that will be or have been made regarding my job in the new combined organization.

Scared and unsure and worried about branching out trying to find new work. Am I good enough? Will I be able to find a job that really fulfills my creative needs? Will my work mean something? Am I barking up the wrong tree regarding the direction of my work? Should I be focusing on growing my own business? Making a living from my artwork like www.PaPaYa.com ? Can I do this AND hold down a part time job? What if I fail? What if someone sees how insecure I am and how scared I am of the unknown? How will they judge me?

Home- I don’t like my living situation. I don’t like having someone living with me and my significant other. I feel intruded upon and like my privacy is severely compromised. In this environment I feel depressed and powerless to make any changes I want to. I am not creating. I am not playing music loudly. I am not singing. I am not excited about cooking. I am not excited about my weight loss or my journey for a more athletic self. I am falling back into my old comfort mechanisms because of how unhappy and uncomfortable and how powerless I feel in my daily life. I am not living fully as I was when I was living alone.

WHY?

Fear of being judged. Fear of disturbing others. Fear of being attacked AGAIN for being true to my emotional, creative and boisterous, and visually exciting nature. Fear of overstepping others’ boundaries. Fear of letting others down- that inner voice that is screaming to me: “I cannot stay here anymore- I am not living my most authentic life. I want to move back to Seattle- but I have a mortgage I agreed to pay. I made a promise to stick by this.” The thing is, I am sticking by my promises- is everyone else sticking by theirs? Did I promise too much up front? Did I promise to fully sacrifice myself to the greater good? I don’t remember doing that. What can I do about this now?

I feel trapped in this suburban life where yard work takes up the weekends. I AM NOT A LANDSCAPER OR A GARDENER. Bully for Bev who loves it, but cannot physically do it, but I don’t love it. I never have. I would rather go shopping or travel or shoot photos or paint or be engrossed in some creative project.

I posses a great deal of apathy. Don’t feel inspired to go out and run/explore in the area I live in. There is nothing exciting or interesting about the neighborhoods or the people around me. I am not inspired by my surroundings. This is a key factor. I can choose to drive to different areas and work out there. I can choose to get a personal trainer and work out with them.

I am afraid to stand up and make changes and assume that I have any power because I am worried that I will be reprimanded for making things the way I want them. What if I rearranged the kitchen? What if I got rid of half the crap in there? What if I got rid of the extra towels and such? What if I asserted myself and my needs for expressing myself visually? What if I painted the front door? What if I funk-ified the entryway? What would they do? Cast me out? Yell at me?

Family- It’s so fucked up. It always has been. My mom, dad, brother, sister-in-law. They continue to choose their comfort and I continue to choose mine. These two paths do not overlap. It is unfortunate. I feel deserted sometimes. I feel angry sometimes. I feel sad that I have to divorce them in order to maintain my basic level of comfort. I feel sad that they don’t understand and think that I am selfish and strange and dramatic. It hurts to be that misunderstood by those who are supposed to know you best & love you anyway.

I feel my only family is Cory, Valerie, Jane & Chet, my grandma, Linda- my therapist, and that’s about it.

Self- My hunger for security and okayness and joy is sometimes almost completely out of control. I am not feeding myself in the ways my heart and soul need. And I substitute with food. There is so much discomfort around my daily life and just coping and getting by- just surviving- that I have withdrawn again. I’m not even here for my life. I have let food become my security blanket again. This is self-destructive and SUCH a 180 from what I KNOW in MY HEART is good for me.

On the flip side, I am devouring books and weblogs and trying to find the answer to help me wake up from this. I am attending therapy. I am asking for help. I can at least be proud and give myself credit for that.

Hitting The Reset Button

So last weekend I went on a mini-vacation with boyfriend. We took a photography wandering trip along the Oregon coast. I ate WAY too much of WAY the wrong things. I didn't get too down on myself because I figured I'm on vacation, it's not like I do this all the time. Plus we were constantly walking and climbing rocks and hiking trails so it wasn't as if I was lying around on a chaise lounge eating gallons of ice cream.

I have returned from the trip to find my weight crept up by a few lbs. Not happy news. Not shocking, but still not happy. So I have made a decision. Since I have been constantly waffling on "getting back on track" and clearly not committed to changing my habits, I need a reset period. I need a final promise to myself that I will be changing my habits back to where they were when I was first banded. I have to mentally put myself back there.

How did I feel?
What were my top priorities?
What was I excited about?
What was I afraid were going to be roadblocks?

All these questions are things I need to dig into and examine. Which I will do. For now, while I am at work, I will think on it.

As a method of getting myself and my metabolism reset, I am resuming the liquid diet that my surgeon put me on for a week before my banding. I will do this for one -two weeks, jumpstart my weight loss (hopefully) and shrink my tummy a little so that when I go back to 3 0z protein and 1/2 c produce, I feel satisfied and that feels like a normal amount of food for me.

At that point, I will truly be able to gauge if I need a fill or not.

At least that's the master plan. We'll see how it goes.
Will keep you posted.

xo
j

Extraordinary Machine

My body/mind/inner gremlins want/need something today. They are making plans to attack my fortress of "Good Healthy Eating and Active Lifestyle". I just drank 8 oz. of hot chocolate-a bandster no-no. Shit. I better do something.

Taking a quick inventory of myself I see that the shelves labeled "enough sleep", "creatively fulfilled", and "having fun" are almost bare.

Let's check these gauges over here; Coffee levels are at about halfway to sufficient for normal functioning. Food and satiety levels have risen significantly since I put oatmeal in my tummy. (When I began this post-I was shoveling oatmeal in my face and thinking god, I will NOT be able to make it through the day without some chocolate.) And... Oh-yeah the red light just went out on the Binge Alert monitor.

Phew. The gremlins are retreating into the shadows- still lurking, but at bay for the time being.

Must remember to take my meds on time, take my breaks, stay hydrated, and track my calorie intake. Will report back as newest developments occur.

xo-j

p.s. goddamned weight is STILL stuck in the same place. I expected at least an lb to budge! Grrrrr....

Portions MATTER - WAKE THE EFF UP!!

Since the beginning of the month (May), I have been TRYING to get my shit together. I have been working out 3-5 times a week. I have been counting my calories. I have been trying to get enough sleep. I have been AWARE. And yet, the scale doesn't budge.

SO FRUSTRATED. And sore from working my ass off!

However, I think after getting honest with myself and examining my online food & exercise diary more closely, that I have been LYING... not TRYING. For example: How much fat-free creamer do I put in my black coffee each time I make one? I've been eyeballing the quantity and calling it 2 tablespoons. I just took my measuring spoon to the fridge and poured out EXACTLY 2 tablespoons. And it seems to me that I have been putting perhaps DOUBLE that. If you figure that I have about 4-5 coffees a day, and my creamer is 10 calories per tablespoon, that means that I have been ingesting (unwittingly or not) nearly 100 extra calories a day with JUST my coffee- I often have tea at night as well- "English style". So lets call it 140 extra calories.

Another example- dressing on my salad- I could call one small "ladlefull" of dressing about 2 tablespoons, but I think it's more like 3-4. Again- DOUBLING the calories I am taking in. 2 tablespoons of ranch dressing = 120 calories, so there's an extra 120 calories give or take- that is not being accounted for.

Cheese on my salads? Burger patties? Nachos? Cheese is SUCH a HUGE calorie bomb and I seem to bandy it about willy-nilly like it's shredded lettuce. 1/4 cup full-fat shredded cheddar = 114 calories.

Sour cream? Even LIGHT sour cream contains a hefty amount of calories if you consider I only allow myself 1000-1200 daily. 2 tablespoons of Light Sour Cream = 40 calories. do I stick with 2 tablespoons ALWAYS? No.

Add all this up- which is not uncommon for my typical eating day lately and you get 400-414 EXTRA calories that aren't always accounted for in my diary. This is MORE than I am burning off daily- and hence the scale staying steadfastly in the same place.

AND I MUST CONFESS THAT THESE ITEMS ARE THE ONES I AM LOGGING! WHAT ABOUT THE SMALL HALF A COOKIE HERE AND THE LICK OF ICECREAM THERE? I'm eating OVER 500 calories more a day on average than I should be. I'm TOTALLY lying to myself.

I deserve better.

I guess I just needed to get honest and really LOOK at what I am doing. It's SO easy to gloss over our habits and say "but, I'm eating healthy and I'm tracking my calories!" This is something that I see on Bandster boards daily- and in any interaction I have at the NWWLS clinic- ALL BITES COUNT.

So now that I have uncovered the culprits, what do I plan to do about it? Well it's time to examine what I want- what my priorities are, and if I want to accomplish those things more than I want cheese, sour cream, and cookies. Funny enough- in the scheme of things- cheese, sour cream and cookies will not make me happy. Because I have them in my life now and I'm quite unhappy. Having my healthy body and slim self back will.

FRANKENSNACK Lumbering in To Crush My Delicate Goals

I just got home from a relatively easy going day at work. Sure, there was stress, but nothing unmanageable or over the top. I ate breakfast. I ate lunch. I didn't keep lunch down, however. So physiologically, I AM hungry... but figured I could wait it out until I got home. 1st mistake. Should have dealt with hunger.

I went to Ballard, picked up some of my favorite coffee beans, and went to browse through a consignment shop. Didn't buy anything, didn't almost buy anything... just enjoying the hunt.
Driving home was not too bad. Traffic was crap, but it was raining. I kept trying to doze off. That's not good. I needed something to wake me up and energize me. My typical go-to solution for everything: food. (in this case- going to food is not an unreasonable response, but still- I went for the wrong kind)

I walked in the door, dropped my shit and all I could think about was making some kind of concoction that would simulate buttercream frosting. Why buttercream frosting? I made someone a bday cake last weekend, had a piece and then managed to get it ALL out of my kitchen by sending it home with others. I was craving that sugar/fat kick. It was recently in my immediate environment, and I had dared to have a little. (It's the heroin addict saying "I'll only have a little".)

Usually, I am proud of my creative abilities in the kitchen. I take chances and create some yummy things when I dare to step outside the box. But tonight I was the wild-eyed mad scientist creating my monster "FrankenSnack". I created what I dare to count out as about 6 oz of buttery-goo that registers about 600 on the caloric richter scale. I was prepared to down it all.

While preparing my goo, "FUCK THIS feeling" I thought. I wanted relief. From what feeling? From being hungry, being tired, being "on" and not relaxed. Every night it is the same thing for me...I crave that comforting place to decompress and unwind. I want the easiest route to that place. Usually it is either food or alcohol. Doing it on my own is difficult and takes patience and planning and forethought. And goddamnit, I'm a 10 year old brat in my mind screaming for relief from my exhaustion and I don't WANT to think about it. I don't WANT to have to work at it. I WANT EASY. Instant gratification is the best kind apparently.

I arranged my safe eating zone- where most of my bad food choices and overeating happen- in seclusion, and made my altar all up. Bed made, fluffy pillow, laptop in front of me, delicious goo within reach. Ready to binge. I ate about two spoonfuls and then an alarm went off in my head as I started really considering the caloric bomb I was dropping on myself and the beautiful, wonderful goals which I was directly sabotaging. I was about to have my own Hiroshima event. I put the spoon down.

I logged into this blog and I began writing. As I write, I am tempted but less tempted. My will power battles my childish need for comfort. FrankenSnack is sitting there, looking at me. Taunting me. I don't need this shit. I need to go to the kitchen and dump this in the trash. Will I lick the spoon? How much damage have I already done? Going to the kitchen...

Mission accomplished. Dumped in trash. Yes, I licked the teaspoon of goo remaining on the spoon. I put the little bowl in the sink and ran hot water on it. I dumped my spoon in. I got my water glass out and filled it with icewater. I came back to my relaxation sanctuary. And now I sit writing, sipping icewater. Feeling proud of myself for being aware and stepping in to be the adult in the situation. Stopping the needy child who wants what it wants and trying to soothe it with breath and quiet.

Sitting here and listening to my body, I am hungry. I need to eat some dinner soon. I have green beans in the fridge and a warm roasted chicken is on its way with boyfriend. I will be okay until I can sit down and eat some real food. I will not keel over.

I know I have talked with my girlfriend who is also a self-proclaimed food addict about our amazing abilities to concoct these mixtures with which to commit food terrorism on ourselves. We each find it amazing that we can create something to really BAD for us to eat out of whatever we can scrounge from the fridge and pantry. Somehow, canned peas, ketchup, worchestershire sauce, cream cheese, and saltine crackers can be combined in some "relatively palatable" manner to make a snack that has the caloric content of three pounds of butter. (those ingredients are just an example more for humor than based in a realistic thing I have eaten in the past-but you get my point).

Our addictions drive us in amazing ways to get creative and find ways to get our "fix". Amazing experience, this whole being human thing. Now if only I could more easily accept all the imperfections and screwups that come with it.